Nightmare
by naivephantom
Summary: (Sorry it took so long to update, but here it is!) We are all phans, true. but do we really know who are we phans of? What happens when phan meets Phantom and it turns out to be her worst nightmare... after all we can't denny Erik's dark side is obscuree
1. Lisa Nelsen

**A/N:** Yes! At last... inspiration! Meaning that this is my first ff, don't you feel proud? The idea hit me one day (while I was doing my laundry, although I promise there will be no dirty sox in this ff [eyes you] –why don't you laugh?-) Never mind that, insanity happens... anyway hope you like this, please review!  
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any character you recognize from any Phantom of the Opera versions.  
  
**Summary:** Every true Phan's deep and secret dream is to somehow meet him, talk to him or even convince him that he just didn't find the right woman, but what happens when a Phan gets to meet the Phantom? What is it that it occurs when the dream turns into a nightmare? What does really happen when you get a closer look of Erik?  
  
**Apology:** To anyone named Lisa or to anyone who's last name is Nelsen, I wouldn't like anyone to be offended by this, I just picked the name Lisa because it's my best friend's name and she assured me she didn't mind me using it and Nelsen is my cousins' last name... so its mere coincidence if it happens to be any of your names. Sorry (... sincerely Gloria.

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**NIGHTMARE**  
  
**Chapter the First Lisa Nelsen**  
  
Everything went well for Lisa Nelsen, she had a perfect, normal life-as normal as it can be when one lives in New York City- friends, family, good grades and notable talent. Yes, Lisa was an extraordinary painter, yet she also had a crush for music and if she was not mistaken, it had all begun that day almost fifteen years ago when her parents took her to Broadway to see Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Phantom of the Opera". It had been... magical, it seemed that each high note touched a thread in her soul, making her pant and gasp in amazement. She had completely fallen in love with the musical and of course "The Phantom". It wasn't until several years later, at the age of ten when she finally read Gaston Leroux's "Phantom of the Opera", she realized then that his name was Erik and of course she fell head over hills for him. With time and money she was able to put his hands on several other items: Susan Kay's Novel, a papier-mâché mask, the Original Cast Recording disks featuring Michael Crawford and Sara Brightman, shirts, musical boxes and others.  
  
Her secret crush was intense and deep, she herself considered that no other phan could ever have the same devotion (A/N: Let's admitted we all think that and some of us are wrong!), she formed part of the society of writers, she had written several fics and as many other writers she despised the so-called Mary-Sues (A/N: Who doesn't?) even though secretly she felt like giving freedom to her mind and allow it to wonder in a secret, special corner where she was the one (A/N: Who hasn't?). Clandestinely she imagined him, regarded him as a sort of Black Prince, in her wildest dreams she could clearly see him: His emaciated yet strong figure elegantly covered with the black cloak, his yellow eyes glowing behind the white mask, his skeletal parchment-colored hands moving in that sensual manner, his lips curved in that attractive and dark smile, his brown hair (A/N: Forgive her... to much ALW!) lightly glowing with the flickering of the candles, the sensuality of his body... and that look, that look she could die for...  
  
At the age of twenty her experience with men had been awful she had only had one serious relationship, but it had ended pretty dramatically, perhaps her obsession for Erik had been the mother of that, but heaven knows she could only have been happy with him! Or so she thought...  
  
It was late, she had being studying for her Computer Techniques V test and she was dead tired, gazing at the clock she noticed it was five minutes to midnight "Not that late..." she thought "It seemed longer." She closed her book and decided she was done for. She prepared for bed, turned the light off and in the dark she founded her CD player, she pressed play and closed her eyes fixing her thoughts on the music...  
  
Father once spoke of an angel,  
  
I used to dream he'd appear,  
  
Now as a sing, I can sense him,  
  
And I know his here...  
  
Here in this room, he calls me softly,  
  
Somewhere inside, hiding,  
  
Somehow I know his always with me,  
  
He the unseen genius...  
  
Christine, you must have been dreaming  
  
Stories like this can't come true  
  
Christine, you're talking in riddles  
  
And is not like you...  
  
Her lips began to move as she whispered the words in her ears.  
  
Angel of music,  
  
Guide and guardian,  
  
Grant to me your glory,  
  
Angel of music,  
  
Hide no longer,  
  
Secret and strange Angel...  
  
She knew every single word of each song, every part, including each of the lines of everyone in the various voices songs like Notes/Prima Donna and Down once more/Track down this murderer. In fact she was so obsessed with Phantom of the Opera that it had been subject of many family discussions, her mother once accused her of paying attention to nothing else and spending the day with her headphones or locked up in her room where the stereo was... it turned out to be one less discussion now that she was living on her own.  
  
The Computers test had been awfully long, Lisa didn't have any time to lunch nor did she arrive her next class in time. The day had been exhausting, work didn't go well either, she had dropped the juice jar at the restaurant and in the register at the vitamin shop decided to stop working. She didn't arrive to the subway on time and had to pay a cab, the driver barely understood any English and he dropped her almost a mile away from her apartment. Lisa decided to walk rather than pay another cab, and to her good fortune rain began to fall. She felt like crying. "If I lived in 1881 none of this would happen!" she screamed out loud, then again it was New York City, there's always someone who cries an insanity to the innocent night.  
  
Lisa closed her eyes thinking hard "How would I have liked to be there, to see him..." she thought as her already damp cloth soaked. (A/N: Hey! Lis! It's NYC, one does not stand in the middle of the street with one's eyes closed!). She suddenly felt an increasing pain on her head and the cold pavement as her body made contact with the floor. She felt how several hands removed her shoes, her jacket, her wallet and jewelry, she caressed her head and a foot kicked her on the rib, she cried out and they fled. She regarded her hand and in horror realized it had blood, with fear she also noticed her sight was beginning to fade and as she lost consciousness her surroundings changed and the real nightmare began... although she did not know it.

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Please RW and tell me if this socks or if you liked it!


	2. Reality and Confusion

Chapter de Second

Reality and confusion

She had been left there unconscious and she had traveled the same way. Unbearable pain covered her body and the cold wind of winter began to blow traveling unmercifully through her spine.

Her senses awakened slowly, she was aware of the increasing pain on of her ribs and head. She opened her eyes slowly and founded her sight was clouded, without moving her torso she motioned one hand and caressed her head, she could feel the dried blood mixed with hair and dirt, but the real surprise came when her hand met the floor. The cold touch of the ground below her made her eyes go wide and the clouds become vapid... she was not mistaken she was laying on a marble floor.

She trembled as she tried to incorporate and then fell soundly. Lisa took a deep breath and tried again and achieved it barely, the action made her dizzy and her legs threatened to let her fall.

Her clothes were dirty, her hands were covered with dried blood and she stood at the middle of a dark hallway of which she was only able to see a few tiles and the poorly lit walls. Her eyes scrutinized the obscure corridor and discovered the source of the little light. There was a little window which would have allowed moonlight to enter had there been any, instead the sky was dark an empty... not even the stars shone in the black veil.

Lisa Nelsen moved slowly towards the window and gasped at the sight that met her eyes, she was not familiar with the view but something in the deeps of her mind was yelling at her that she was not in New York. Lisa rubbed her eyes, her surroundings could be part of a hallucination, a concussion or a dream... yet she did not remember being so aware of herself in any of those.

She risked a few steps, her legs quivered with the weight of her damaged body. Lisa caressed her arms with her hands and realized her jacket was missing. She was now more aware of how cold her body was, her upper lip shivered slightly and her sense of self-preservation made her legs carry on as she looked for a place were she could find shelter.

Much to her regret she had to move away from the little light onto the dark corridor, her steps echoed by the marble floor and the solid walls. With time her eyes got used to the dark enough so that she could easily distinguish statues and portraits from their background, she could not yet tell what they resembled but she was aware that she they were there, something that made her more uncomfortable.

Lisa felt uneasy, which made her quicken her pace; she opened the first door she founded and looked for something that resembled a switch but was unable to find one. The room held a window through which she could see a poorly lit stone street, Lisa observed snow beginning to fall covering the street and her heart seemed to stop when she saw a stranger covered from shoulders to feet with a black cloak, but it was not the cloak that caught her attention... it was the white mask that he wore under the black hat.


	3. Mistaken

**A/N: **Begging pardon for delays, but school has begun... and this is an extra-long chapter so that you may enjoy it and of course review it!!!

**Chapter the Third**

**Mistaken**

Lisa stood there incapable of moving, what she had just seen kept her wide-eyed and petrified and even though her eyes hurt, she wouldn't blink trying to remember every detail of what she just had witnessed.

He had been tall, very tall and emaciated; the way he walked was stunning, so proud so confident, the black cloak drew his body in a graceful and much elegant way, his hands: he had had the left one inside his cloak and the right one on top of his left shoulder, his fingers were very thin and long and had wore absolutely no garments, his skin was pale, the white mask covered his face completely and made his eyes look black and expressionless in the distance.

The sole though of him made her body shake and her mind wonder in dangerous places, she thought him enticing, attractive and somehow darkly necessary. She had to find him... and in a bold rush she stepped out the room and began to run, she did not know where she was heading, but things were still so vivid in her memory, she wouldn't risk a chance.

The hallway did not seem to frighten her anymore; in the other hand it appeared inviting, warm and exciting. Lisa could feel her heart beating a hundred times a second, everything seemed so clear and yet so confusing. She founded herself in the top of a staircase and there was no other way to head but down... and down she went.

She stepped down and founded herself facing an identical staircase to that she had just walked, this one went up, and a greater staircase that went down and in the wall, in the middle of three arcs that covered three floors and guarded by two mighty statues of marble representing two women dressed in robes and two magnificent, tall lamps, there was an entrance above which hung a wooden board which read in gold:

**AMPHITHEATRE**

**RIGNOIRES ORCHESTRE**

She swallowed; never in her life had she remembered having seen such a magnificent, welcoming entrance. She walked slowly, entering between the stone women, just to find herself in a lobby with three entrances, no doors. She walked underneath the one that read Orchestre and opened the two mighty wooden doors on her way... she gasped, she stood now in what she had seen in so many pictures: The Orchestra seats of the Opera Garnier.

Her eyes wondered around them and on the curtains of the stage, the boxes and finally they fixed on the roof: blue, yellow, white, green and red... she could tell the colors because of the mild light of a few lamps on the wall. She could see the two circles of the ceiling, painted on those colors, with angels, ballerinas, the Eiffel tower, the Arc of Triumph and even the façade of the Opera House.

The golden garment between the circles and around the entire room contrasted appealingly with the mighty chandelier that hung above her. Lisa couldn't help it but smile; it was very similar to that one used in Broadway's show, but infinitely better, more elegant, more beautiful...

The thought assaulted her then and she frowned; "What the hell am I doing? As if I'll be able to find the lake! Even if I know what dressing room is Christine's, I never could make it through the lake, the siren would get me... and the third cellar? My death! There's no known way to escape the torture chamber! What am I doing?"

She sighed, what was she honestly thinking? She had read everything about Phantom, she had chatted with every Phantom expert she had been able to find, she had read the books at least five times each, and she knew the story and the musical... honestly!

She observed the room for a while... Erik had been there, he had designed it, the interior of the Opera Garnier... it had been his work. She sighed again... but maybe there was a way... the Rue Scribe? No, that would lead her to the lake. There had to be a way... a place where she could try to find him without getting herself into a jeopardized position, and then a light in her head went on: Box five.

She went over her steps and arrived to the place where the three staircases met... now what way should she go. She decided to go left and ran up the stairs, climbing them as fast as her feet allowed her... she had forgotten how much her ribs hurt, the dizziness apparently had never been and all the pain had dissipated with the sole sight of... of him, the only man she could truly love, the only person who could completely understand her.

She knew her way she had studied the building through many books and of course the internet, and it appeared to her she was in some sort of dream, probably product of some concussion. She froze then in the middle of the steps, she did not remember being so aware of herself in any dream, but it had to be that... she remembered the incident, it had happened in New York City, in September 2004... not in Paris and definitely not in the 19th century.

She decided to continue her journey and arrived to the top of the staircase and entered through another threshold and with a smile on her face and a warm feeling in her heart she began counting: Eleven, nine, seven and... five... the thought assaulted her again, her body trembled in anticipation... it seemed so real, but it was a dream. "It has to be" she assured moving her head "But if it is a dream... I shall live it then, live it and have an everlasting happiness that will accompany me till the day I die... and I shall die joyful and pleased."

She closed her eyes tightly and opened the door, she stepped in and pulled the curtains abruptly... a scream escaped her lips and she fell down as he wrapped himself swiftly in his cloak and disappeared...

"Wait! Please wait! a... arête!" She did not know if it was for her delight or much to her regret that he stopped and made himself visible again... was it him?

Her eyes were fixed on his boots; they gave his feet a pinched, narrow appearance, and a strained, delicate gait. Her eyes wondered further up his firm legs, his strong hips, his traced waist, his thin torso, his neck, and finally his face and the white mask that covered it almost entirely.

"Erik?" she asked doubtfully... he did not move, not one inch, it began to make her feel uncomfortable and with little amusement she observed he was scrutinizing her and then again she could understand why... she was wearing her favorite jeans, her feet were covered only by her socks that were awfully dirty, her black shirt was also dirty and her hair, she could imagine it, was totally messed up... not quite the encounter of her dreams, was it?

She passed a hand through her hair, but it had so many knots that she couldn't and so she drew her hand back just in time to hear a soft laugh... a magnificent soft laugh.

"Have we met?" He asked hardly moving his lips at all and Lisa felt her heart melt, he was no Michael Crawford or Hugh Panaro... he was an angel or a demi-god, his voice was just... unearthly.

"I...You speak English?" It was a stupid question and she was fully aware of it, he had asked the question in a beautiful Britannic English... but she had imagined him always a mainly French speaking figure although she had read the books... what a fool she was! Another soft laugh interrupted her.

"You are not English are you mademoiselle? American perhaps then..."

"I am." He offered her his hand and without thinking twice she took it and gasped, he was cold, colder than the floor... cold as death. She couldn't see his eyes but she was sure he had heard her gasping, and oh, how many times had she said she wouldn't even blink should he touch her!

He pulled her up gently, and she felt him strong. He smiled then, she couldn't tell why but he had and now that she stood in front of him she could see how tall he really was... he had to be taller than six feet! And she was only about five-four or so... she forced herself to look into his eyes and felt her body shiver when she saw them glowing in a yellow, enticing fire. He let her hand go and asked again, softly:

"Have we met mademoiselle?"

Lisa took a deep breath, she had planned a thousand first conversations she would establish had she the chance, but none of them appeared to be the right one now.

"No." she answered simply "We haven't, but I know you... or at least I think I do."

He was confused although he did not look it, but she knew he had to be... after all how many times one does meet a stranger like... well like her!

"And where if I may ask, where do you know me from?" He asked this time coldly as if remembering something he had thought long forgotten or as if not wanting to go further in conversation... something about his voice being that icy brought shivers to her spine, she did not like that tone.... she did not like that tone at all!

"Everything is gone wrong" she thought "everything's gone so wrong!"


End file.
